


Saturdays Are Loud

by okbutjusthisonce



Series: RFU [11]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Sherlock, M/M, Mpreg, Omega John, Omega Verse, On the Cracky Side of Things, On the Fluffy Side of Things, Parentlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-07
Updated: 2013-09-07
Packaged: 2017-12-25 21:52:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/958004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okbutjusthisonce/pseuds/okbutjusthisonce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy Saturday... back to the smut soon, promise...</p>
    </blockquote>





	Saturdays Are Loud

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Saturday... back to the smut soon, promise...

 

"Sherlock, will you please get the door!"

John sighed and waited through the predictable silence before undertaking the challenge of moving.

"Ok lovies," he said gently pulling small children off him, "Someone's here, got to let them in." John slowly unfolded his legs, trying to determine how best to stand up, no small feat in his condition. One of the toddlers began to wail in protest as John tried to move his son’s little body from hanging off his left shoulder.

"Oh no... Don't you start, I'll be right back!" John said. The baby boy looked at him with giant pale eyes full of stubborn intelligence. John felt himself beaming back at the too-serious look and dark curls. The other two took advantage of the pause to scramble back onto him as best they could. He sighed, pulled them off once more, and began to rise.

"Don't get up on my account." said Mycroft. John looked up from where he was seated on the floor.

"You've got a key I see."

"To all doors, John. What _are_ you doing?" Mycroft smiled down as two of his young nephews switched focus from John and gravitated towards his legs.

"It _was_ prenatal yoga... but then this lot got to me..." John pulled the adamant boy onto the surface of his immense belly. The child wrapped his arms and legs possessively around John.

"It's amazing you manage to get anything done, really,” Mycroft grinned, “Are the children ready?"

"Probably. I'll go and see. Mycroft, could you lend a hand?" John handed Mycroft his son. The other two had lost all interest in him for the moment, preferring the excitement of a visitor. Mycroft leaned down, talking in a playful voice. John didn't quite catch it.

"Was that Latin?" He asked.

"Ancient Greek, actually. They love it, don't you boys?"

“Good God.” said John.

“Ο Θεός είναι αγάπη” said Mycroft.

John shook his head.

+++

  

Upstairs, Sherlock sat on the floor doing something rather convoluted. Something with stuffed animals and long number sequences written in bright colours and the twins that were born last year.

John stopped to peer at the cheerful notes.

"Are you teaching them about prime numbers?" He finally guessed.

The babies sucked on dummies in their plush seats. Their large, intelligent eyes watched the toys and numbers go by with equal interest.

"Very good John. We are specifically working towards Zhang's twin primes conjecture." Sherlock made a silly face at the baby on his left.

"Oh."

"It will be interesting to see the difference between learning this concept mathematically versus musically... which I’m sure you recall I've been doing with our oldest two." He paused to tickle the baby on his right.

John loved watching Sherlock with the children even if he couldn’t always tell the difference between Sherlock's idea of play and experiment. Lately he'd become comfortable with the idea that they were one and the same. Sherlock wiggled an elephant and held up a card enthusiastically.

“Ooooooog!” said the baby.

“Very good.” said Sherlock proudly.

Admittedly John sometimes considered his children might be destined to become odd adults, but then their father was quite odd, and John had nothing but love for him.

+++

  

Greg arrived just as Mycroft was leaving with the the six year olds - two girls and a boy- to take them for an afternoon of opera and high tea. The three of them were impeccably groomed, all black curls and shiny shoes.

“And so Medea has her vengeance! - Hello inspector. Going out for a bit of fun are we?”

“Hiya, My. Are they ready?” He asked John.

“Just about - boys! Uncle Greg is here!”

“I want to play rugby too!” said Lucy, the smallest girl.

“Do you sweetie?” said John, “But you’re all dressed for a day on the town..."

“There’s no rush.” said Lestrade, “She can change.”

“Ὑπιαίνετε!” said Mycroft with a short nod. The three baby boys playing on the floor babbled baby talk greek and waved.

John sighed and nodded. The three were back to wanting his attention and were fighting over his legs. He’d need some help.

“Rosalie!” 

+++

They stood with military attention in front of their parents. They were in trouble.

They'd already apologised, but they knew there was more to come.

"And what else?" Asked John sternly. "What did we say about experiments? Ben?"

The first boy glanced uncertainly at Sherlock. "Not on Rosalie." he piped.

"Not on _people_!" corrected his brother loudly.

John looked at his oldest sons and then at Sherlock sceptically.

"Wait outside, the adults are going to talk now." He said.

"Are we punished Daddy?" The boy winced as his brother elbowed him in the ribs.

"Yes Martin, you will be. For one thing, no rugby today. You've behaved quite badly. Now wait outside quietly."

"Told you!"

The three adults watched the twins leave the room. John turned to the young woman.

"Please don't go." he begged.

The young woman shifted uncertainly, twisting a piece of her wheat coloured hair.

"Rosalie," he continued, "not only could we not manage without you, but we'd miss you terribly! Wouldn't we, Sherlock?"

"Hm? Oh. Yes..." Sherlock looked up from where his gaze had been resting; namely the curve of John's giant belly. He smiled dreamily in the general direction of Rosalie as he moved closer to John on the sofa. Rosalie looked back longingly at Sherlock and gushed. It took John all his effort not to roll his eyes. Rosalie dropped hers as she spoke.

"Dr. Watson, that's kind of you to say and all... I just don't think I'm cut out for this." Her voice had a trace of a waver that warned John there might be tears.

"What! Of course you are, you're fantastic with the children, and they - we - all love you to pieces! We couldn't bear to see you go!”

John pulled Sherlock's hand out from under his shirt.

"Say something!" He hissed with a nudge to Sherlock's ribs.

Sherlock blinked rapidly, focused on the girl's face.

"Her eyebrows will grow back." he said.

Rosalie burst into tears.

"Sherlock! Rosalie! That's not what -"

"I'm I'm sorrreeeee... Dr Watson... I just can't do this any morrrrrrrreee." she sobbed.

John shot Sherlock an especially nasty look. The doorbell rang.

“Daaaaaddeeeeeeee…” beckoned a little voice from below.

“Don’t! ...Go anywhere!” John snapped at the two of them. In the doorway, he paused to look at Sherlock and tilted his head towards the girl.

“Fix this!” he mouthed.

“I’ll be right back!” He added cheerfully, as he left.

 

+++ 

 

There was a package on the step. John looked at it suspiciously. He'd come to hate packages ever since he'd started living at Baker Street. It was a large, expensive looking silver  box. It had his name on it. There was a neatly folded card he couldn’t possibly read without crouching down or picking it up. John decided he wouldn’t bend down to get it even if he could.

“What’s that then?” asked Greg behind him.

 

 +++ 

 

"Glad that's settled," Sherlock was saying gently as he shoved a moon eyed Rosalie out of the room. He closed the door in her face and turned to John.

"Take off your shirt!" Like an over excited puppy, he bounded to the sofa and patted the space next to him, beckoning. John crossed his arms.

"You were a bit harsh at the end there! She has quite the crush on you though, my god. It might be the only thing that keeps her here." Sherlock rolled his eyes. They were filled with impatience and the beginnings of alpha lust.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Come here! Take off your..."

"Of course you don't, love, your obsessions run in another direction. Listen, you need to go down and have a look at something for us.”

Sherlock made a face like a child forced to swallow cod liver oil.

“A package.You want me to deduce whether or not it could be harmful.”

“Why do I even bother explaining anything...”

"Dull."

 +++ 

 

Sherlock stood facing out of the doorway of 221b, the naughty twins on either side of him. Behind him John, Greg and a growing number of curious children gathered. Sherlock folded himself in half over the box. Sniffed. Turned his head for a theatrical listen.

“ _Definitely_ a bomb.” he said straightening abruptly. Sherlock swept back into the flat past John landing a quick kiss on his cheek.

“Johhhhhhhn… hurry back up, I have something I want to give youuuuuuuu….” he crooned as he disappeared upstairs.

Greg and John looked at each other in disbelief, trying to decide if-

"The card says "with love from M!" chirped Ben who had crouched down next to the package.

“Everybody inside the house and away from the door NOW!” Commanded John. Seven children under the age of seven scrambled up the stairs. There was some squabbling on the landing, as they fought for seating with the choicest views round the balustrades.

“Well, that was rather impressive,” said Greg looking up.

“Just call the bomb squad.” said John grumpily.

Everyone in the family knew what "M" potentially meant.

 

+++

 

"Daddeee... can I _please_ go out to watch the robot? Pleeeease?"

"Absolutely not, Lucy."

"But I want to see it blow up the box!" Whined the little girl. She hadn’t changed all the way for rugby, and her good shoes and stolen brother's shorts did not quite work together.

"It's too dangerous." said John.

"But Ben and Martin and Mandy did!"

"WHAT?!?!" Shouted John, "SHERLOCK!!!!" He called up the stairs with a panicky cry. A cold feeling of terror gripped him.

"He's outside too." Complained the little girl.

 

+++

 

The little crowd in front of 221b Baker Street looked more like the audience for a street performer than a detonation. They watched with waning interest as the bomb squad did their thing: consulting each other, running tests, preparing the remote unit. It was taking too long. The police were not very good entertainers and things hadn't been nearly as exciting as the crowd had hoped.

"This is dull." summarised Ben. He wriggled impatiently in the steel grip of Sherlock's right hand.

"Be patient-"  Sherlock winced as Mandy repositioned herself on his shoulders, yanking his hair in the process.

"Daddy's quite angry." said Martin, gently holding his left. The other three followed his gaze to see John lumbering furiously towards them.

"Oh dear." said Sherlock.

Across the crowd they watched Greg buy them an extra moment or two as he grabbed John's elbow.

 

+++

  

"...Thought I'd tell you before you murder your mate in the street, before a sea of witnesses."

Greg searched John's face for some semblance of sanity. He'd seen hormonal omegas in “protective mode” kill for less. John practically had steam coming from his nostrils and Greg thought his light grip on John's arm might be the only thing keeping Sherlock alive right now.

"Did you hear me, John?" John's look was burning a hole into the side of Sherlock's head. Sherlock was feigning obliviousness, pretending to watch the boring squad with deep interest. Mandy looked over at John and squealed in delight.

"Hi Daddy!" called Ben. Martin waved.

"Yeah." John spat out after a moment,

"They don't think it's anything but they'll detonate anyway. Got it."

"They're so sure about the readings they wouldn't bother, normally, except for the 'M' part. We obviously don't want to chance that it's something from..."

"SHERLOCK BLOODY HOLMES! I KNOW YOU SEE ME! GET OVER HERE THIS MINUTE!"

The crowd’s focus shifted, there was a much more interesting thing happening in their midst.

 

+++

 

“Is this _number two_ bothering you?” Sneered a rather tall, ginger coloured man. He’d stepped into John’s space, attempted to shoulder Greg out of the way. John’s unbonded-uber-fertile-omega pheromones (laced with a healthy dose of distress) were clearly starting to affect the alphas in the crowd. Greg spied at least two more potential trouble makers looking their way.

“Piss off!” growled John. The alpha stepped back a litte, confused by the sentiment he'd been expecting from Greg. Lestrade stood his ground, calmly showed his badge. He’d dealt with agitated alphas many times before.

“Move on, mate.” he said. The man stared, swallowed and nodded, began to comply.

“Right, what's happening here?” said the young alpha officer as she aggressively elbowed her way into the circle of strife. Lestrade didn't know her name, only that she was new and hot headed like all alpha rookies.

“Everything’s fine, let’s all just give this omega  some space…” began Greg but John had suddenly pulled the officer to him - was kissing her angrily, glaring over her shoulder.

Suddenly Sherlock was the one charging towards them in a state of rage; ploughing through the crowd absurdly with a boy under each arm and Mandy wrapped around his head. The red haired alpha jumped on Officer Hothead with a jealous cry.

“Bulloc-” Greg’s curse was drowned out by the sudden sound of explosion.

Inside the window, Lucy clapped as she watched bits of silver fly everywhere.

 

+++

 

"What a mess you two made out there!" sighed Sherlock as he threw himself into his chair. The twin boys immediately began climbing onto his lap. He opened his arms in a grandiose gesture to let them get settled better.

"That WE made?!?!" Cried John. "That WE made???"

"Yes."

"You told us that was a bloody bomb! You took our children into a danger zone! You-"

" _You_ kissed another alpha."

"Maybe I'll go put the kettle on," mumbled Lestrade looking down. Mandy sat at his feet and had re-laced his shoes into a complex pattern of knots he couldn’t follow.

"As if it was anything but a ploy to get you to stop ignoring me!"

"As if I would put you or our children in danger like that." Sherlock snorted, "It's called sarcasm, John. Something you're always criticising me for being oblivious to."

John gaped at Sherlock, flustred.

"Oh, you ought to have just come upstairs and let me shag your brains out!" Complained Sherlock, “All day I've been fantasizing about my mouth on your-"

"Definitely tea time," said Lestrade, quickly standing. Mandy raised her arms and was scooped up.

"Well...what about bringing the children out? What if it had been something dangerous?"

"We - _They_ knew it wasn't though."

"Ben read the 'M' card!"

"N" corrected Ben, "Daddy can I please have a Hob Nob?"

"Go ask Uncle Gre- what?" John looked at the boy; the spitting image of Sherlock - who now  watched them with a knowing smirk.

"Can I please have a Hob-"

"Ben did you say 'M' or 'N'?" Asked John.

"N."

There was a moment of silence in which John radiated a mixture of disbelief and mortification.

“Go get your digestive. You go too, Martin.” said John. He closed the door behind the boys. He crossed his arms, looked at Sherlock demandingly.

"I seem to recall," said Sherlock, "That awful woman the D.I. is infatuated with had a name beginning with. 'N'."

"It was a gift from Naomi?!?!"

"Truffles, stinking of her...I'm sure her phone number tucked in there somewhere amongst them..."

“AH HA!” John triumphantly pointed an accusatory finger at Sherlock, “It was all out of petty jealousy! This _was_ all you , Sherlock! You _let_ us destroy it ...practically led us to do it because it was a gift from another alpha!!! ”

Sherlock waved his hand dismissively.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He said.

“One whose been flirting with me for months…”

Sherlock’s right eye twitched very slightly.

“Practically courting me…"

A low noise rumbled deep in Sherlock’s throat.

“You probably knew she put the package there from the start...smelled her coming a mile away!" John cried, "...In fact, _that’s_ why you went outside, isn't it?! To watch it get destroyed… to scratch that jealous alpha itch of yours!"

"I was teaching the children a valuable lesson about the power of assumption. And miscommunication. And the reliably daft behaviour of our city's police... and the predictably foolish result of all of it!” Growled Sherlock.

John laughed.

“You owe me a box of truffles, love. And Mycroft new tickets, as it was cleaning up _your_ spectacle he had to leave early for! ...And Greg an endless apology for making him fight off a gang of alphas...and...the children didn’t get to the park...and...and... so much more… for literally blowing up our Saturday! _That’s_ the result!”

Sherlock began pulling his clothes off matter-of-factly.

“It’s not as if it was worse than last weekend." He said unconcernedly, "or any of our others for that matter...Come here; you love me, and it's time to make each other feel good."

John shook his head. He went to the door and locked it. The sound of Greg's trying to manage a lot of small children calling for tea and biscuits was getting louder by the moment.

"You're quite mad, my love."

"But I'm right."

"Yeah." John said as he pressed his mouth to Sherlock's, "both, so much, always."

 

 


End file.
